The “Cursed” Old House
Were here! Time to unload! called out the driver, pulling his lorry to a halt beside the leaning, moss-covered wooden fence and switching off the engine.
Clara gently shook her daughter, Daisy, whod dozed off against her shoulder, softly snoring.
Darling, wake up. Weve arrived. Open your eyes, sweetheart.
Daisy rubbed her sleepy eyes with a tiny fist, peering out curiously at the house through the window.
Mum, is this where were going to live now?
Yes, my love. Come on, lets get our things and have a look around.
Clara climbed carefully down from the high step and lifted Daisy out after her. Just then, Tom, Claras ex-husband, pulled up behind in his car.
All good? he asked, coming round to the other side.
All sorted. Where are the keys?
Here you are, Tom handed her a jingling bunch. Ive left the deeds on the dining table, youll spot them. Ill pop round for Daisy on Saturday, like we agreed.
Alright.
Ill help with the boxes before I go. Loads to do back at work.
Clara nodded, trying to keep her composure. There was a hollow ache inside, but she knew she simply had to get on with thingsthere was no going back, only forwards. Preferably without any tears.
She and Tom had shared five years of marriage before, just a month ago, Clara had found out about his affair. It wasnt just some passing fling eitherit was serious. He was already talking about starting another family.
For days afterwards, Clara had drifted through life, numb and disoriented, as though shed slipped into another dimension. Only yesterday, she felt secure, settled, with a husband and a life she could depend on. Today, poofgone. Worse still, her faith in people had evaporated with it. If your own husband could betray you so carelessly, what hope did you have for anyone else? Their life together had been peaceful; hardly any rows, conversations as usualthats why it all came as such a shock.
The news didnt just hurtit knocked the wind out of her. She went through the motions: caring for Daisy, working, cooking, tidying, but couldnt bring herself to look ahead any further than the next day.
The flat where theyd lived belonged to Toms parents. As for Clara, she only had an elderly Aunt Linda in the next town, her last living relative. Because work kept her so busy, Clara had hired the next-door neighbour to shop for groceries and medicine for Aunt Linda and keep her company. Clara rented out her late parents flat on a long-lease. The rent went half to Clara and half to Aunt Linda via a separate account. Clara had offered many times to move Aunt Linda closer, but the old lady had always refused.
When Tom broke the news, he knew there would be no scene. That simply wasnt Claras way. And so, the day the truth could no longer be hiddenthanks to a helpful busybodyhe waited for Daisy to be asleep before inviting Clara into the kitchen.
I know you know. Im not going to make excuses. Thats just how it is. We have Daisy, and we need to decide how all this affects her as little as possible. Any plans for what youll do now?
No idea… Clara stared at the table, hands wrapped around her mug, voice a whisper.
Inside, a whirlwind of why and how could you spun round and round. But outwardly, Clara showed nothing. She had no intention of letting Tom see the storm hed left behind.
Still, Tom was right about one thing. Daisy came first.
Ill probably have to end the tenancy on my flat, she suggested hesitantly.
No need. The situations my faultnot yours or Daisys. Mum and Dad and I have had a chat, and… well… how would you feel about moving?
To where? Clara looked up sharply.
You know Mum inherited her parents old cottage in Woodford, just outside town. Its nothing specialold, could do with a lick of paintbut its solid and warm. And your Aunt Linda lives just one street away, as I recall? Mum would like to transfer the house into your name for you and Daisy. What do you think?
A settlement? Clara gave a wry smile, but her mind was already racing. It was the best offer, really. She didnt want to bump into Tom and his new flame every day, anyway; every corner of their old neighbourhood hurt. Even a walk in the park tugged her straight into memories of their family days together.
Now, her new priority was Daisys future. The town was small, but the school had a good reputation, the GP surgery wasnt far, and Aunt Linda was nearbysomeone to trust. Daisy needed keeping a close eye on, and Toms involvement would never be the same again. Clara would also need to find a job…
She nodded resolutely. Alright. Yes. Ill do it.
Great. Mum will ring tomorrow about the lawyers appointment for the house transfer. Im off. Take care.
He paused at the door, not meeting her eyes. Im sorry. I never wanted it to end this way, he murmured.
Clara said nothing, just nodded and closed the door softly behind him. Sliding down the hallway wall, she pressed her sleeve to her mouth and let herself weep, quietly so as not to wake Daisy.
It wasnt just tears, but almost a keening howlClara remembered seeing a programme about wolves as a girl and thought how like a wounded wolf she sounded now. She sobbed herself empty, the raw pain seeping away until only a hollow, burnt-out space remained in her chest. One single trembling thought fluttered thereshe needed to find something good to fill that aching space, or risk being traps forever in that endless pit of sorrow.
The following weeks were so busy with the move that Clara barely thought of anything else. She was now standing at the foot of her new garden, by the tottering fence, staring at the wild and tangled orchard that all but swallowed up the house. Between choked-over trees, only the tip of the roof and part of the veranda was visible.
Daisy tugged her mums hand. Come on, Mum! Dont just stand there!
Together, they walked up the path, sidestepping an old apple tree, and finally saw the house in full.
Not just a house, Clara caught herself thinking. A home. A little tired, yessome peeling paint, slates askewbut strong, with a small attic and a beautiful bright veranda with coloured glass panes. Amid the autumn leaves, it was almost picturesque. Clara unwrapped her camera and snapped a few pictures. Looking at the place, a sense of hope blossomed. The sheer amount of work needed to tidy everything up was, she realised, exactly the sort of challenge she needed right now.
Daisy stood open-mouthed, thumb in her mouth. Clara tweaked the pom-pom on her hat.
Take your thumb out, poppet! Is the house surprising you?
Mum… Its so PRETTY!
I agree. Now lets go inside and see whats whatespecially where youll be sleeping!
Yes! Quick, lets go!
They climbed the steps and, through the veranda, entered the house. A wide hall led to the kitchen and two cosy rooms on the ground floor, plus a spare room in the attic and a roomy lounge-diner with a big round table under a heavy old lampshade covered in a knitted throw. It smelled mustyclearly no one had lived here in months. But even so, Clara had the oddest feeling of comfort and warmth.
Clara! Everythings off the van, Ive paid the movers, Toms voice rang from the lounge. Come, Ill show you how the heating and boiler work.
After a quick tour, Tom said goodbye and headed off.
Clara went straight to the kitchen. She switched on the kettle and set up a simple meal to feed Daisy. With the stew slowly warming, she fetched some cleaning supplies to wipe down the table.
The kitchen was small but charming, with two big windows looking out at the garden. At one window a table stood waiting, and Clara got busy giving it a proper scrub. Daisy sat on a chair, kicking her legs and peering at the cupboards and the colourful lamp overhead.
Suddenly, something thudded against the window. Daisy squealed, and Clara jumped. Perched on the ledge outside was an enormous ginger tomcat.
Well, hello to you too! Was the scare necessary? Clara breathed out, laughing. Daisy, look at that lovely old tom!
The cat gazed back, grave and unblinking.
So, are you just going to stare? Come in, then! Im sure weve got something for you.
The cat leapt down and disappeared.
Well, the invitations there! Clara grinned. Daisy, time to wash hands for lunch!
Clara turnedand gasped. The cat now sat on the kitchen threshold.
How did you get in? I locked the back!
The cat, fearless, simply squinted at her affectionately until Clara couldnt help but smile. She let him have some cooked chicken on an old saucer.
While collecting plates, Clara checked the back door. Still bolted, but then she spotted a small flap cut into the woodan old cat door, by the look of it.
So thats how! Clever guest, she thought.
When Clara returned, Daisy was on the floor next to the tom, whispering secrets in his ears, to which he listened solemnly. Clara laughed for the first time in ages.
Proper little conversation partners, you two!
Both Daisy and the tom glanced up in perfect synchrony, and for a second Clara could have sworn the cat shrugged, just like Daisy.
A knock came at the door. Waving a warning finger at Daisy, Clara went to answer.
Hello! Im your neighbourPauline Green, but everyone calls me Aunt Polly. Here you are, she beamed, handing over a litre bottle of milk. Fresh from my own goat! Drink up, itll do you good!
Hello! Clara was momentarily startled by the cheerful tone but quickly remembered her manners. Im Clara. Lovely to meet you! Warm still! Thank you so muchplease, come in.
Aunt Polly marched in, making herself at home.
Clara set the milk on the stove-side. Daisy turned.
Hello! Im Daisy.
Lovely to meet you, Daisy! And Im Aunt Polly.
Daisy piped up, Do you know whose cat this is?
Of course! Hes my rascal! Names Basil. If he eats too much here, send him packinghell go lazy and leave all the mousing to us!
Do you have mice? Daisys eyes widened.
Of course, my dear. So will you, surely. All country cottages have a few, especially come autumn.
Mum! We need Basil! I mean, our own cat!
Clara smiled. Hold on there! Well see. Aunt Polly, do you know anyone looking for some work? Someone to help clear the garden and fix up little things? Im in need of a handyman.
Oh, certainly! Pop down to see Mr. Collinshes three doors along, green gates. Good with his hands, fair with his charges. Tell him I sent you.
Thank you! Oh, forgive my mannerscan I offer you a cup of tea? Weve only just landed, but I do have biscuits and sweets stashed somewhere.
Id love some, dear, Aunt Polly smiled.
Over tea, Aunt Polly chatted away about life in Woodford, her family, and finally asked, How did you come by this old place, Clara?
It came to me through the family, Clara tried not to let too much show. She wasn’t about to go into the gory details of her life story.
Did you know, its been empty nearly twenty years? The young folk forget, but old-timers rememberbad luck always seemed to stick to this house.
Now youre scaring me! What do you mean? Has something happened here?
Oh, nothing dramatic, dont you worry! Just, no one ever lasted long. A couple of years at most, then out theyd gosomeone would take ill, or lose someone close, or just never find happiness… Thats how it got its reputation. The original ownera local merchantbuilt it for his bride, but she died within the year of some sudden illness. He sold up and left, and so it went. Its a hundred years old now, seen a few rebuilds, but never really settled.
Clara turned her teaspoon nervously.
Well, well see, wont we? This is what weve got and well make it work. Daisy, were a tough pair, arent we? Not easily scared! Well see what this house makes of us!
Several months pass.
Clara settles into her new life. Daisy starts nursery, while Clara finds work at a local photography studioearning a decent living doing party shoots and portraits. Photography had started as a hobby but grew into more during her pregnancy. Shes glad of those skills now.
With steady help from Mr. Collinstall, broad-shouldered, and good-humouredthe garden is tamed and the orchard revived. He comes by at Aunt Pollys recommendation, introduces himself with, Call me Collins, everyone does, and gets started. With his help, fruit trees are pruned and beds cleared. Clara can foresee a home-grown future for Daisya bounty of fruit without ever visiting the shops. Together, they repair the roof, veranda, and porch.
The house comes alive, breathing again. Each morning, tea in hand, Clara strokes the now-smooth porch rail and feels a sense of belonginga gentle calm shes not known in ages.
Clara now manages all Aunt Lindas shopping and visits her daily with Daisy after nursery. Shes certain nowmoving was the right choice. Slowly, the pain at Toms betrayal has faded. He visits Daisy regularly, and that at least has helped steady the waters. Some couples fall apart, Clara chooses not to dwell on blame. She recognises her own share, toosometimes, shed gotten so lost in being mum shed left little room for her marriage.
Aunt Linda encourages her: Quite right, Clara! Dont brew any grudges. Let sadness go, however smallotherwise, one day itll feel like mountains. Remember the good stuff! That darling girl of yours, for one. Thats what counts. Forget the rest. Bitterness wont warm your soul… Daisys watching you, you know. They pick up everything, even when we think they dont. Whatll she remember of these days? What sort of mum will she see you as?
Clara nods, deeply agreeing.
She gradually befriends her new neighbours. Younger families drop by with children, and Daisy soon finds playmates. The older residents also visit.
Thats how Clara meets Mrs. Martin, who lives further up the lane, and who teaches her how to bake crusty farmhouse bread. Daisys delightedshe stops fussing over milk when Clara pairs it with a warm, buttered chunk from a fresh loaf. Theres nothing left but crumbs and a milky-stained upper lip for Clara to wipe clean with a laugh.
Clara also makes friends with old Mr. White, who introduces himself one summer evening, bearing a bowl piled high with the biggest strawberries Clara has ever seen.
Cambridge Favourite, best in the land. Stick aroundIll show you how to grow them.
After Collins finishes sprucing the veranda, Clara sets up a big wooden table and scrubs the coloured windows and floors until they shine. In the corner sits a rocking chair which Daisy adores, curling up every evening with the ginger rogue Basil the cat, whos decided to split his time between the houses. Now Clara checks the porch if she leaves the houseever since she stepped on a neat row of mouse offerings, Basils latest trophies. He earns his keep, but even without that, Daisy is enraptured.
Only one neighbour gets Claras back upJean, a little older, extremely nosy, and the very definition of a gossip. At first Clara couldnt figure out what made her feel so uneasythen realised: Jean never visited without reeling off some new bit of nastiness about everyone. Clara tried to wrap up the conversations as quickly as possible, but Jean was persistent.
Aunt Polly, how do I make her stop coming round? Clara moaned once. Shes like a torrent of tittle-tattle!
Oh, loveif you try and shut her out, shell spin some rumour youll never shake, even now everyone knows you. Thats just her way. I sorted her out, in the end.
How?
EasyI keep cats, shes allergic!
What, should I get a cat? Or perhaps a dog…
Clara mulled this over.
Jean, realising Clara was too polite to turn her away, made herself quite at home. Clara made her tea and inwardly sang songs to drown out the stories, while Jean sat and held court, never caring if anyone was listening.
Some time later, Clara noticed every visit from Jean ended badly for her. First, Jean tore her new skirt on a mysterious nail on the porchClara was certain there hadnt been one there. After all, Collins had only just finished the work. Next time, Jean somehow missed her chair completely and slid to the floor, even though the chair was up against the wall.
Perhaps word spread or Jean found a more eager ear, but her visits dwindled.
One morning, while trimming a bush by the gate, Clara overheard Jean talking to Aunt Polly.
She lives alone, with a child, and no man in sight? I dont believe it! House is tidy, gardens neatthere must be someone visiting when no ones looking.
Dont be silly, Jean! You know Collins helped, and she paid him fair and square. What are you on about?
And that house! Everyone in the area knows its unlucky. She should have left long ago, but shes still here! Why? And people visit her all the timeme, they just avoid. Why?
Because, Jean, people make a place, not the other way round! Claras a good soul, so folk want to see her. Off you pop now, JeanIve got… um… milk boiling over!
Clara crept back, smiling to herself. People, she thought, you get all sorts.
Mum! Where are you? Daisy called from the porch.
Just here! Did you wash?
Not yetwait! Look!
Clara looked as Daisy pointed to the end of the path. Basil was trudging out of the orchard, proudly carrying a squirmy, ginger kitten. When he reached Clara, he gave her a reproachful look. She knelt down and cupped the mewling bundle in her hands.
Thank you, Basil. Youre sure about this?
The big old cat grunted and stalked off towards Aunt Pollys househis good deed done.
Well, Daisy, perhaps we do need him after all. What shall we name him?
Basil!
Clara held the kitten up, eye-to-eye. Welcome, Sir Basil Junior! Right, everyone insidebreakfasts waiting!
Daisy giggled, pushing open the veranda door. Warmth spilled from the house as they all went in together.
